"Life's either a daring adventure or nothing." Helen Keller

S is for Sesame Street

“There it is!” Miss S shrieked. “Let’s run.” So, obeying the walk signal, we ran across the street, to the Save on Foods Memorial Centre.

I braced myself for more chaos, and a sea of ‘Buy me Elmo’ but the foyer was empty, save a lonely kiosk selling $15.00 t-shirts that went up to size 5. Even if I felt inclined to purchase one, they wouldn’t fit Miss Q.

Thankfully the littles’ attention was on the inflated archway to PlayZone, so off we went to explore.

The magical PlayZone was not. Fiberglass cut-outs of the characters lined a section of the hallway and each character had an activity. Abby Cadabby asked, “How many pumpkins tall are you?” So the littles stood beside the stack of pumpkins and measured. Oscar was there and you could have your picture taken beside him in your own garbage can, that was just a picture on fiberglass, and so on… Sure the characters spoke to you through speakers, and I don’t know what I expected, but it seemed pretty weak for all the hype.

Our seats in the third row were decent. It’s always hard to decide where to sit when you’re ordering tickets on-line, but thankfully the stage was large and the girlies could see over the adults in front of us. (Miss S sat on my lap the entire show, while Miss Q sat on her knees – there was no one immediately behind us. In fact, there were probably only about 200 people in the entire arena – the show was really poorly attended.)

“When’s it going to start?” Miss S asked.

“The show is going to start in 3 minutes,” Big Bird’s voice replied, on cue. He then rattled out a list of things to remember about the show, one of which no video taping or pictures, something very few people in the place adhered to.

I didn’t know how Miss S, or Miss Q, for that matter, would react to seeing furry monsters dancing around on stage, so as they held their breath, anticipating the curtain, I planned my escape route should one or both have a moment.

Giddy and awestruck might touch the emotions Miss Q and Miss S had as the curtain rose and all their TV friends appeared. The two of them sat, eyes giant saucers, fixed on the stage, not saying a word.

I, on the other hand, found myself being one of those mums. No, not that mum who gets angry with the annoying mum in the front row (directly in front of us) who unapologetically kept getting up and chasing her child all over the arena – that would come later – but that mum who found herself with tears in her eyes as she watched the opening act through the eyes of her children. Don’t worry, I recovered, Miss Q and Miss S don’t have to hide their faces this morning.

“There’s Elmo!” Miss S shrieked along with pretty much every parent and child in the arena. “Miss Q, there’s Elmo!”

Miss Q didn’t acknowledge her sister. She kept staring at the stage not wanting to blink.

Though at times I felt like I was watching a stage show at Chuck E. Cheese – you know the one with the animatronic characters who open and close their mouths to a pre-taped show – the girls didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I don’t even think they noticed.

Their pals Bert, Ernie, Cookie Monster (who was mysteriously absent in the second act yet they sang his part in the song like he was really there), Baby Bear, Rosita, and of course Abby Cadabby kept the show lively and even broke free from the stage to dance into the audience.

I’d argue that doing the hustle might not be relevant, even as a nod to the adults watching the show, as most of us were born in the disco era but never got to strut in our platforms; however music is music, the tune catchy, and Bert looked smashing in his white suit.

In the end the only true ridiculous moment came at intermission when a vendor appeared in the arena with mylar balloons of Elmo’s face – as if the littles’ eyes weren’t big enough. “Let’s go to the washroom,” I said nudging the girlies away from the blatant commercialism.

By the time we returned, every family in the arena appeared to have a balloon and the vendor was still surrounded. My heart started debating with my brain. “Surely you can get them a balloon,” my heart said.

“No way. They’re killing the environment.,” replied my brain.

“Oh come on.”

“No. It’s a waste. It will pop and then what? It gets thrown in the garbage.”

“Just ask how much it is.”

“No.”

“Please? It’s for the kids. Something special to remember the concert by.”

“No. They don’t need a present every time.”

“Please?”

“Fine.”

So armed with my wallet, I waited for a chance to ask how much they were.

“Ten dollars,” the vendor said. My jaw dropped. “Remember to tie them up,” he reminded the family purchasing 2 from the bunch.

You think?

Big Bird came back over the speakers to remind people who bought a balloon to put them under the seats so the balloons didn’t block others view. I will only say that karma got the people previously mentioned in the front row. Their balloon, which had a habit of floating and blocking my view, floated to the heavens after the show.

“That was a waste of money,” Miss Q commented as Elmo’s red face pierced the blue sky. Was it wrong for me to smile?

“My favourite part was getting my picture taken with Abby Cadabby,” Miss S stated, remembering her fiberglass friend. Thankfully, she’s since changed to Elmo singing as being the best part.

“I don’t know what my favourite part is,” said Miss Q.

And though our family probably won’t be attending future Sesame Street shows – sorry Miss C, I wouldn’t have traded our experience at the show for anything in the world. After all, my favourite blue monster, Grover, hasn’t changed a bit.

Me

I enjoy watching soccer in the rain. Most of our crafts involve glitter, finger paint or both. I am learning to eat my vegetables. And, whether in socks or bare feet, I absolutely hate stepping on Lego. Here I blog about life with my three little girls, husband and dog.